


Burn

by Artyphex



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Rated T for dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artyphex/pseuds/Artyphex
Summary: There was a time when there was nothing but Heaven and stars. There was a time when Aziraphale guarded the wall between them. There was a time when Aziraphale knew the Archangel Raphael, not that he could tell you now.





	Burn

Existence is a funny thing to get used to. 

Many things didn’t yet and what did was expected to exist immediately, fully formed and able doing whatever it was it was told to do. Aziraphale, new to existence as he was, was rather good at it. 

When little existed, all that could be done was create, or help create. God did the real creating of new light, laws, and life while Aziraphale and the others created whatever She did not have time for, which currently meant Heaven and the stars. As he was commanded to do, Aziraphale floated around the edge of Heaven, on the wall between the Kingdom and the Nothingness that extended outside of it, watching the other spheres of angels build the Kingdom on one side of the wall and watching the stars flicker and form and fill in the Nothingness on the other. He was to guard both sides from any who would try to enter or exit outside of their instructions. No one had, of course. They had each been created knowing that defiance was deeply wrong, which is what made what was on the wall that day all the odder. An angel stood on the edge of the wall, staring into the Kingdom.

Aziraphale was far from the only angel on the wall--it was a rather big wall--but others simply floated along it, unspeaking and unstopping, in their true forms usually, which Aziraphale thought was a bit unnecessary. Everyone already knew who they were, no need to remind them constantly. 

_ This  _ angel, however, stood still, and lacked any extra eyes or wings, carrying the casual two for each. He was staring into the Kingdom of Heaven, not with the usual awe of a new creation, but squinting, his hand shading his eyes. 

Aziraphale approached cautiously, not sure what to say. He’d never spoken to another angel that wasn’t of his sphere, and those usually didn’t speak back. 

“Lots of light,” the angel said as Aziraphale got close. He was wrapped in very nice robes. His long red hair down to his waist. “Too bloody bright to see anything.”

Aziraphale looked around. The angel hadn’t turned to look at him as he spoke, but the wall was empty apart from the two of them. He  _ could  _ simply be speaking aloud, Aziraphale did that himself from time to time. “Well,” he finally replied, “that’s what She commanded.  _ Let there be light.” _

“Yes,” responded the angel, which made Aziraphale breathe a sigh of relief, he  was  speaking to him after all, “but I don’t see why She couldn’t let us turn it off every now and then,” the angel continued, staring up at the Canopy of Heaven. “Makes it awfully hard to rest.” 

Aziraphale blinked, properly staring at the strange intruder now, “Rest?” 

The angel took his hand from his eyes and looked at Aziraphale for the first time. His eyes were gold, and they too were very bright. “Ah yes!” he said, “It’s this idea I’ve suggested, might help raise morale around here, I think.” 

Aziraphale looked over the wall, into the Kingdom. Light indeed poured out of every possible area--the sky, windows, between cobblestones--it was almost as if the air was made of it. Angels buzzed through it, faster than Aziraphale’s current two eyes could register, shaping golden stairways and pearly gates and cotton clouds, leaving trails of light in their wake. “Morale already seems pretty high don’t you think?”

“Not in a way that matters,” the other angel grumbled, “They work because it’s what they’re told. I think they should work because they want to.” 

A dark feeling settled somewhere in Aziraphale’s core. No one had told him so, but he knew this was a very forbidden conversation. “Are you saying you don’t want to work…?”

“Raphael,” the angel said. 

“Raphael…” Aziraphale knew this name, had been created knowing this name, but it took him a moment to find it in his newly-made brain.  _ Raphael.  _ That name was important, one of seven that stood out in his mind. 

The realization struck him. Oh.  _ Oh.  _

“I should bow!” Aziraphale said, stuttering, “Or avert my eyes? Something like that? I’m new.”

“Well, everything’s ‘new,’” Raphael said, his voice unphased. He looked hard at Aziraphale and examined him up and down with his gold eyes, “You’re Cherubim correct?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hardly worth it then.” 

Aziraphale blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“Shouldn’t you have a flaming body?” Raphael went on, ignoring or entirely oblivious to Aziraphale’s concerns. “Wings covered in eyes? Heads of lions, eagles, and bulls? What happened to all that?” 

“Seems a tad dramatic just for going about my day don’t you think?” Aziraphale examined Raphael now. He looked  good  of course, angelically beautiful as they all were, but he looked nothing like he was supposed to look. “Shouldn’t  _ you  _ be wrapped in three sets of wings? Covering your face from the glory of God?”

“Ehh, point taken,” Raphael said. 

The two angels stood there for a moment, a somewhat awkward silence growing between them. 

“Do you…” Aziraphale swallowed. Raphael seemed--unusual, for an angel of his status, but that didn’t mean Aziraphale couldn’t overstep.  Questions are dangerous things.  That was another idea he had been created knowing. “Do you really not like your work?” 

“No, I-” Raphael paused, turning from the Kingdom and looking into the Nothingness, since the beginning of their conversation, five new stars had been added, “I  _ do  _ like my work. Up in the stars. It’s  beautiful  on a good day. But the people can be- difficult.” 

“Difficult?” 

He nodded, then made a face like he’d tasted something sour, “Michael’s judgemental. Gabriel smiles too much. Uriel…” He shuddered, muttering something under his breath, “She’s a real bastard, that one. I’d say Lucifer’s the best of them.” 

“Lucifer?” 

Raphael nodded, “He’s a prick alright, but he’s got some good ideas, I think.” 

“I see...” Aziraphale looked into the Nothingness, another star flickering and forming in the blackness. He’d never stopped to just look at it all like this. That’s how it is being a guard--always vigilant, never time to really see things. 

“What about you?” 

Aziraphale looked back to Raphael, “What?” 

“What about _you?”_ Raphael asked. The look in his eyes something Aziraphale couldn’t place. “Wouldn’t you like to get off this wall? Actually _see_ Heaven? Or the stars?” 

Aziraphale took a step back. Archangel Raphael or no, that dark feeling that this was a  very  forbidden conversation, hadn’t gone away, “I- I never considered it before.” 

Raphael’s eyes widened, the look Aziraphale couldn’t place fading. He too stepped back, a look of shame on his face. “Right,” he said, “Of course you haven’t.” 

A statement like that could normally be considered an insult, but this was decidedly not. If anything Raphael’s tone carried a trace of disappointment, a trace of him reminding himself of something. Of rules he’d forgotten. Like it was possible to forget. 

“I think I would,” Aziraphale said after awhile. 

“What?” Raphael said, looking back to Aziraphale. 

“Like to see-  _ more _ ,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to each side of the wall. “I suppose. If I had the time.”

Raphael began to smile, he opened his mouth to make a suggestion--

_ “Aziraphale,”  _ said a voice that sounded like the noise a fire makes just as it becomes an inferno. 

Aziraphale turned his eyes to the speaker. Four-faced, four-winged, and hundred-eyed, it’s voice did not appear to come from any of the four faces, and instead, simply fill the air around it. 

“Ah,” Aziraphale said, “hello  Ophaniel.” 

All of Ophaniel’s eyes went between Aziraphale and Raphael, then it made a sound like an inquisitive fire-crackle. 

“Oh, he’s with me,” Raphael said, moving closer to Aziraphale. “Important God ordered business.”

The eyes squinted for a moment, before the legless mass of wings, eyes, and faces bowed. It went on to circle the wall of Heaven. 

“Well,” said Aziraphale, as Ophaniel moved far enough down the wall, “I should probably be getting back to it.” 

“Right,” said Raphael. “Thanks for the chat, Aziraphale.” 

“A pleasure.” 

Aziraphale went on his way down the wall, turning back for only a moment to see Raphael raise his wings, six of them now, and launch himself back into the black Nothingness, as two more stars glittered into being. 

\---

Aziraphale was quite starting to like this idea of rest Raphael had suggested, if only because it would be a nice change of pace. Heaven was very nearly infinite, which meant so were the walls around the twelve gates, which, made of gold and shining with pure white light as they were, did eventually begin to get dull. 

Celestial hymns sung by the workers in the Kingdom and hummed along to by Aziraphale only did so much in ways of entertainment. After enough time, they all started to sound the same. 

He did at least enjoy watching the stars form above. The Nothingness was becoming less and less so by the hour, filling with lights. Aziraphale had created a little game for himself--draw lines between the stars in his head, see what shapes he could make. None of the other angels he’d told so far seemed to see what he saw, but that didn’t matter. It’d catch on eventually, he was sure. 

“Aziraphale!” a voice shouted from above. 

Aziraphale looked up. A six-winged figure was flying towards him, coming from the Nothingness.

The Archangel landed on the wall, his six wings merging into a simple two as they folded, “We were interrupted last we spoke,” he said. “Want to make some stars?” 

“What?” 

“You said you wanted to get off the wall, see more,” said Raphael, mirroring the gesture Aziraphale had made to both sides of the wall. 

“If I had the  _ time _ ,” Aziraphale said. 

“I’m an  _ Archangel _ , Aziraphale. I make things. I can make time.” Raphael’s tone was one of great confidence. 

Aziraphale crossed his arms. “I don’t think that’s quite how creation works, Raphael.” 

“C’mon, you have four wings, don’t you?” Raphael spread his wings, all six of them, and pushed off the wall, hovering just above it. “Ever actually used them?” 

Aziraphale looked at the hovering Archange, his six pristine wings ready to fly, moving up towards the stars. “You’re serious?” 

Raphael nodded. 

“I,” Aziraphale looked up at the Nothingness, a new star forming just as he did. His wings ached. No, he never  _ had  _ actually used them, and divine or no, they weren’t made to sit folded up all day. “I really  shouldn’t  leave the wall.” 

Raphael held out his hand. “Nobody ever has to know.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes went from the wall to the stars, to Raphael. 

Aziraphale’s wings spread, four of them, white-gold feathered and flight hungry, and took Raphael’s hand. 

The two angels took off into the stars, hands clasped as Heaven became a glowing dot behind them. 

Aziraphale remembered as they flew, Raphael saying building the stars was beautiful on a good day. He wondered if this was a good day; if it wasn’t, he wondered what a  _ good day  _ could possibly equate to as the stars flickered by. 

“How do we know when we’ve gone high enough?” Asked Aziraphale. 

“There isn’t really a ‘high enough’,” replied Raphael. “We go until you want to stop.” 

Aziraphale blinked, “Me?” 

Raphael shrugged, “Might as well let you pick,” he said, “It’s your first time up here after all.” 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale looked down to the glowing dot marking Heaven, trying to picture the Nothingness from the wall, imaging the stars above and where he’d be among them now.“Here,” he said. 

Raphael stopped effortlessly, while Aziraphale’s more out of practice wings buckled under the sudden halt and his grip tightened on Raphael’s hand. 

“Any reason why here?” Raphael asked. 

“Well…” Aziraphale suddenly felt very embarrassed, “the stars- form shapes- if you look at them right. Draw little lines in your head.” 

Raphael stared at him, waiting for a further explanation. 

“If- if I’m correct we should be inside one of my favorite patterns.” 

“Right,” he said, “What pattern is that?” 

“It looks like a dove.”

Raphael looked at the stars, brow furrowing as he tried to draw the lines between them. 

“You can really only see it on the wall,” said Aziraphale. “The stars look…” Aziraphale looked around them, there were stars above him, below him, floating by him, all his time watching them come into being, he’d never seen them like this, “very different up here.” 

“Ah,” said Raphael, “well… you can show me when we’re done here.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened. “Oh! That would be wonderful.” 

They hovered among the stars for a moment, 

“You do need both hands for this,” said Raphael.

“That would make sense,” said Aziraphale, not loosening his grip.

Angel wings, for all their golden, flaming glory, were rarely used for actual  _ flight  _ and were instead more a great status symbol in Heaven. Only Angels, angels of the lowest tier, angels without any other fancy title attached to them, actually used their wings regularly- which probably explained why theirs were rather plain. 

There was also something about the complete absence of  _ anything  _ beneath Aziraphale’s feet- just stars, and the black gap between them- that was deeply unsettling. Aziraphale was discovering he had a very specialized fear of heights. 

“Don’t worry,” said Raphael, “you can’t fall.” 

With that, he slowly pulled his hand from Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale tensed, bracing himself to indeed fall into the Nothingness that still existed between the stars. 

But he didn’t. His wings caught him. 

“See?” Raphael said, “Feels good to stretch them out, doesn’t it?”

Aziraphale paused for a moment, taking in the sensation of his wings being fully open, holding his form up in the stars. It did, in fact, feel good. It felt  _ wonderful _ .

“So,” Aziraphale said, turning to Raphael, “how do we go about this?” 

“Well,” Raphael replied, “there really isn’t any one way to do it.” He took his hands and cupped them together, like one may do to drink from a river, and slowly, a glow formed in the center of his palms. It spread until it spilled over the top of his hands, the light flickering in his eyes as it seeped through his fingers. Raphael pulled his hands apart and let the bright, beautiful new star fall into place in the sky. “You just sort of need to… want to.” 

“Raphael,” said Aziraphale, his eyes following the newly-formed star as it settled into the cosmos, “do remember I’ve never been up here before.” 

“Oh, cut me some slack will you?” Raphael said, though his tone was far from annoyed. “It’s the best I can put it.” 

“I’m sure,” said Aziraphale, but he put his hands together in the same way Raphael had, focusing on the blank space in the center of his palms. 

He closed his eyes.

Aziraphale pictured his star. A yellow star, a  golden  star. Big and bright. The kind of star that grants wishes and guides travelers. The kind of star that serves as the centerpiece in a drawing of stars, the kind of star that-

“You’re thinking too much,” Raphael said, shattering Aziraphale’s thoughts, “Don’t. Just  _ want _ .”

Aziraphale opened one eye and glared at the Archangel Raphael, who threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender, hovering a few spaces back, before dropping his hands to his sides and watching. 

Once again, Aziraphale closed his eyes. 

_ Just want.  _ Aziraphale wasn’t really sure how to  just _ want _ . Everything an angel did had to be for some divine purpose, an angel wanted what they were  _ told.  _ Raphael was  _ told  _ to make stars, Aziraphale never was. So logically, he didn’t  _ want  _ to make stars. Did he? Was this really how you made stars? It didn’t feel right. 

_ Just want. _

But Aziraphale had  _ wanted  _ before _.  _ He’d wanted to get off the wall. He’d wanted to stretch his wings. He’d wanted to draw patterns in the stars. And Aziraphale did want more stars. Something to drown out the black gap. Something to turn the whole thing silver. Yes. He did  _ want  _ a new star. 

“Yes!” exclaimed Raphael, flying back over with an excited flap of six wings. 

Aziraphale opened his eyes.

There was a star in his palms. 

White and tiny, flickering like a fragile candle flame. It wouldn’t shine as the biggest or brightest star in the sky, it may even be lost among them all, once the Nothingness is full. But it was a star.

“It’s very small,” said Aziraphale, letting his hands drop and the star fall into the Nothingness.

“Oh, it’s bigger than it looks, trust me.” Raphael smiled at him, the whiteness of his teeth and glow of his eyes in the dark looked almost frightening. “Go on then! Make another!” 

Aziraphale’s next star was a bit bigger, though not by much, glowing a faint but beautiful blue, and it took its place high in the sky above them. The one after that was deep molten gold, and fell into the gap like it was weighed down with chains. The next was a bright, one may say  _ ominous  _ red, and when Aziraphale dropped his hands, it floated off slowly, unsure where to go.

Aziraphale got faster at it, making stars. He made blue, white, and gold stars. He made orange and green stars. He made stars that shine too bright to look at, stars that glowed a dim, calm light. He made stars that settled above, below, and beside him. He made stars until he’d practically forgotten the wall until the dot of Heaven below started to look like just another flickering light. 

“Are you just trying to get me to do your job for you, Raphael?” Aziraphale said as the last star floated into Nothingness. 

Raphael had, until that point, watched Aziraphale with excited fascination. His posture far too relaxed, “No! What would give you that thought?” 

His smile could, at a later date, be described as  devilish . 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, before settling them almost involuntarily on the glowing dot of Heaven. 

_ Ah. Right.  _ “I should probably get back… ” 

At this, Raphael fixed his posture. “Already?” 

Aziraphale nodded. “Just one thing first.”

“I’m all ears,” Raphael said. 

Raphael had said nobody had to know he had been off the wall, which made Aziraphale have his doubts he’d ever be up here again. He wanted something to remind him of his time in the stars, something bright. He wasn’t sure he could make something like that alone, but Raphael could.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, “I want to make a star with you.” 

Raphael looked, for the first time since they’d met, genuinely taken aback. “Why?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “To see what would happen, I suppose.”

“I’ve- never tried that.” 

“I’ve never been off the wall.” Aziraphale reached his hand out. “ You started this, Raphael.” 

Raphael said nothing, but he smiled again, that same smile he had when Aziraphale asked if he was making him do his job. He took Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale arranged Raphael’s hands into the same cup shape he had taken to form his first tiny star, and then placed his own hands beneath them. 

“Do you think the way of making it is any different?” Aziraphale asked, “with two of us, I mean?” 

“I don’t know. I told you, I’ve never tried this before,” Raphael paused, staring down at where their hands met, “I doubt it though.” 

Aziraphale looked at the Archangel, “Alright then,” and then back to his hands. 

He closed his eyes.

Aziraphale would be on that wall for a long, long time, and he’d get to know this sky. Draw every pattern he could.  _ It will be nice, _ he thought, _ to look up and remember this. _ That time he’d made stars for Raphael. 

_ “Aziraphale.” _

Aziraphale opened his eyes, and there was a star in his palms.

It was so large the light spilled over the tops of their hands onto their arms and splashed in their faces. It seeped between their fingers and fell so far into the Nothingness Aziraphale couldn’t see where it stopped. 

“It’s beautiful,” Aziraphale said. 

Raphael laughed. 

“What?” 

“Look a little closer,” nodding towards their star. 

Aziraphale squinted. 

The star- his bright, beautiful star- was not a star. It was  _ two  _ stars. Bound and spinning around each other in an eternal waltz. Aziraphale could feel them rattle against his hands, begging to be set free. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, “is that going to be an issue?” 

Raphael held the backs of Aziraphale’s hands and gently pulled them down, letting the stars dance off together into the gap. “Doubt anyone will notice,” he said, “most won’t get this close.”

Aziraphale watched the stars wander into the Nothingness for a long time until it became a bright dot very far away. The stars seemed to glow even brighter once they were free. 

“I really  should  go back now,” he said. 

“Alright,  _ fine _ ,” said Raphael, exaggerating his disappointment, “Come back up here again, will you?” 

Aziraphale gave a half-smile and nodded his head. “If I have the time.” 

\---

Raphael had been right, it was hard to see that it was two stars from so far away. That was alright though, it was still one of the brightest up there and  _ Aziraphale  _ knew. That was enough. The wall was a little less lonely with them up there. 

The wall was a little less lonely in general lately, and not because of the fellow Cherubim he passed by every now and then. They weren’t much for talking and almost never returned Aziraphale’s friendly nod. He’d grown accustomed, however, to getting excited when he heard the flap of six wings coming up behind him. He hadn’t been up in the stars again yet, but Raphael had entertained him with idle chatter and stories of what he’d seen. Aziraphale had walked Raphael through his star-patterns, and Raphael had he’d humored him. He insisted he could see the dove they’d been in, even though he traced the stars in the wrong pattern, but it was the effort that counted. 

So Aziraphale smiled as he heard the sound of six wings flying up to him and turned quickly, ready for whatever conversation the Archangel had ready for him. 

It was  _ not  _ Raphael. 

It was another face he felt he should  know _.  _ The name was somewhere in his head, he just had to find it. 

“Cherubim Aziraphale, yes?” said the Archangel who was not Raphael. 

“Yes…” he kept searching around for the name in his head, the pause between words growing longer and longer until it was unbearable. “Forgive me for this. What is your name?” 

“Oh! No forgiveness necessary. I am Gabriel,” he said and smiled a very tight, formal smile. 

“Right!” said Aziraphale, “I remember now.” 

“Of course you do.” 

There was a pause, as each waited for the other to say something else. 

“I trust you know why I’m here, Aziraphale?” The Archangel’s posture was uncomfortably stiff to look at. He stood too still. 

“I-” Aziraphale tried to straighten his back a bit, “I wouldn’t actually.” 

Gabriel’s smile became even tighter. “I’m here to apologize.” 

Aziraphale stopped, truly stopped, and for a moment his mind could think of nothing, “I’m sorry-” he said, “What?” 

“I’d heard,” Gabriel spoke in a very clear, slow way, “that my colleague the Archangel Raphael had distracted you from your post. Is that true?”

“I,” Aziraphale swallowed, Raphael had been wrong, someone had noticed, “Well, he didn’t really distract me-” 

“I’m apologizing for his behavior.” Gabriel’s smile hadn’t moved. 

“I see,” Aziraphale noticed that Gabriel’s eyes were a deep violet that should have been beautiful. It wasn’t. “There really isn’t anything to apologize for.” 

“Oh, there is,” Gabriel said as if he was stating the most obvious fact he could. “He’s an Archangel. Such behavior is inexcusable.” 

“I really wasn’t bothered,” Aziraphale insisted. 

“Why not?” Gabriel asked.

“I…” Aziraphale knew what he’d wanted his next words to be, but a feeling deep inside him told him to stop talking. 

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel’s formal tone hadn’t changed. 

Aziraphale felt as if the wall below him were suddenly made of ice. “Yes, Gabriel?” 

“Mind if I give you some advice?” 

“Of course- not! Of course not.” Aziraphale tried to look eager. 

“Good,” Gabriel said. “There have been some disturbing things said by Lucifer, you know the Lucifer?” 

“Yes, I’m familiar.” The best of the Archangels, according to Raphael. 

“Yes, well, Raphael has been going around saying some... _ similar  _ things,” Gabriel said the word  _ similar  _ as if it were a diabolical curse. 

Raphael’s voice rang in Aziraphale’s mind: _ He has some good ideas _ . “Like what?” 

“Oh, I won’t repeat them,” said Gabriel, “but it would be wise to be careful if he should try to engage in inappropriate behavior with you again.” 

“I um,” Aziraphale scanned the sky, “see.” 

“Good!” said Gabriel, “I’m glad we had this talk. I’m sorry I held you up.” 

“It’s fine, really…”

Gabriel did not move. 

“Is there anything else?” 

“Oh no, I was just waiting for you to get ready,” he said, gesturing to Aziraphale. 

“Get- oh. Yes. Of course.” Aziraphale changed his shape to that of one with four heads and a hundred eyes and covered in fire. 

“Very nice,” said Gabriel. He tightened his smile at Aziraphale once more and flew off into Heaven. 

Aziraphale waited for a moment, watching Gabriel’s six-winged form vanish into the Kingdom. For a while he considered changing back--he wasn’t sure Raphael would recognize him like this--but he thought better of it, and continued down the wall. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel like I should warn y'all now: this is the lightest in tone this fic is gonna get. 
> 
> This fic is named after and loosely based on the song "Burn" from Hamilton. No infidelity, don't worry, but we're still looking at themes of betrayal. The second part will hopefully be up soon! I'm going to try and get it done by next Sunday. 
> 
> I'd like to thank my friends tem_393 and Amber for beta-reading this for me!! Y'all are the best. 
> 
> (I listed to Burn while writing this until I physically couldn't anymore)


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